Colorless Sky
by Yuki-kon
Summary: (Resident Evil: Damnation) When a certain American agent suddenly re-appears in Buddy's life, it makes it all the more difficult for him to deal with the past. Leon/Buddy Slash


**Chapter 1 – Shadows of the Past**

The dark clouds on the horizon promised soon rain. The air was already humid and heavy. Buddy dragged in a long breath as he emerged from the old building. His hands were resting on the metal frame of the wheelchair he was sitting in and he cast a look back into the corridor he had just passed through. After all this time it still felt strange; he had a normal life again, far away from all the fighting and the suffering. It was all he had ever wanted - to be teaching again - and yet he didn't feel whole. Not only had he lost the use of his legs, he had lost so much more. The war had taken everything from him and sometimes he felt like nothing could fill the void the turn of events had torn into his mind and soul.

But he was still alive. Somehow he had survived and, although the guilt of leaving behind so many others weighed heavy on him, he was thankful. He owed this second chance to one man. An American even. Buddy snarled at the thought. Remembering the whole scene, it had been quite pitiful and embarrassing. And yet, even the fear and anguish he had felt back then was still very vivid in his memory: looking down the barrel of a gun, a rough face hovering behind it, staring at him - not with pity, but with determination…

Buddy tore his gaze away from the dim hallway when the last flickers of sunlight touched the floor just beneath his feet. It was getting dark and as the season went on the nights grew longer, emerging from the shadows too soon and creeping back into their hideout too late the next day.

Slowly, oh so slowly, as if somehow he could hold onto the past and the daylight a bit longer that way, Buddy pushed the wheels forward, setting the chair into motion. He reached the street that connected the front yard with the school's entrance, and made a turn right, to the path ascending towards the president's estate. Every day he went home after work he had to pass by the pretentious building and every day it brought back more dreaded memories and pain - as did everything else around him: the houses, some of which he had to hide in when he had joined the resistance - the streets he had run through and fought in - the rubble, still not cleaned, a constant reminder of the devastating history of the city… He didn't even know how he had survived as long as he had, before the worst came to pass. And now he didn't even really know what he had been fighting for as all his purpose seemed to be eradicated from the face of the earth. All he lived for now was teaching and watching the children grow up into a future without war - a future at least filled with hope instead of constant fear. And as much as Buddy despised the building itself: since the new president had stepped into power, the palace, too, had become a symbol of hope for the people of the Eastern Slav Republic.

Buddy had almost reached the plaza in front of it and his eyes gazed up at the structure, one of the few buildings still mostly intact. As he pushed on, already slightly exhausted by climbing up the street, he was momentarily blinded by the setting sun that peeked up behind the aligned houses. He shielded his eyes against the orange glow with one hand. And when the lone sun-ray had been swallowed by the shadows of the hills that surrounded the city, he noticed a tall figure standing only several feet away, glancing at the president's estate just like Buddy himself had earlier.

Buddy squinted his eyes as he cautiously approached the man. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket and something about him looked oddly familiar. And just as Buddy realized what it was, the stranger turned around, his hair swaying with the motion, hiding his face at first. But then the uncommon blond veil moved to the side and revealed piercing green eyes and scruffy features, framed by a 5 o'clock shadow.

Buddy resisted the impulse to rub his tired eyes,- although it might as well have been some kind of hallucination, he instantly knew that it wasn't.

The two men just stared at each other for one long minute. It was a surreal scenario and Buddy felt at a loss for words, anyway. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many answers he yet needed. And now here was the only person in the world who might have been able to give them to him. And Buddy didn't want to ask the man anything. He didn't have to. It was irrelevant, because he felt as if the man's presence was all the answer he would ever get.

Although it seemed like neither of the two had moved, they met halfway the distance that had been between them.

Buddy inclined his head, having to lean back a little to take a look at the other's face who was looming over him, not intimidating, but unyielding, blocking his view.

Something not quite close to a smile appeared on the blond's face, as he tucked himself deeper into his jacket that was the only thing shielding him from the quickly intensifying coldness.

"Long time no see… Buddy."

The sentence itself was so casual, so unremarkable that Buddy almost felt like laughing. But the appearance of this certain acquaintance paired with his own unusual strong sentimentality, let the chuckle die in his throat. Instead he acknowledged the greeting with a single nod, the grip of his hands tightening on the wheelchair. It suddenly felt like the ground was shaking underneath him.

Never would he have anticipated seeing the American again - the one who Buddy connected all his misfortune to, which had not been the man's fault, of course, but had just coincided with the circumstances of Buddy's downfall and general misery.

Sasha knew that. But he simply couldn't forget.

And now the man was back. 'Why?' It was the only question Buddy could think of in this moment.

"Why are you here?"

The half-smirk didn't vanish from the American's features even as his eyes wandered to the houses and streets beyond, before he met the Slav's own gaze again.

"I'm on vacation."

Buddy couldn't help a snort this time.

"Great. Should I better leave the country while all hell breaks loose around you _again_?"

The other's expression grew serious in an instant at the sarcastic remark. Buddy was doing him wrong and part of him regretted the snide comment already. But he couldn't take it back and maybe it was a good thing to put it out in the open. It was time for him to let go, to forget. And on that account maybe it was also time for him to confront the past. Maybe it was a sign.

Buddy didn't apologize. He probably should have. But taking another look at the American, Sasha could see the same anger and pain in the man's eyes. There was a mutual understanding between them right at that moment and Buddy could almost feel the tension cracking and crumbling to pieces like one of the withered brick walls of the city.

Shaking his head, Buddy pushed the bitter regrets and grief that still gnarled at him into the back of his mind and stretched out his hand.

"Alexander Kozachenko."

It wasn't much of an admittance of fault, but it was a start – and a gesture the other man would acknowledge without further inquiries.

And when the American clasped hands with him, Buddy realized for the first time this evening that he _really_ didn't know the other man's name yet.

"Leon Scott Kennedy."

The grip on Sasha's hand was firm, reassuring him that, after all, this was not a weird hallucination or dream. And when their hands parted, the smile on the blond's face made a sudden reappearance.

"Wanna grab a few beer?"

It was a sentence that Sasha still remembered very well from their first encounter. For anyone else it might have not meant anything, but for him it did. The rest of the tension eased out of his body and mind as a grin of his own tugged at his lips.

"You're buying."

And without any further words the two of them went off into the growing shadows, until the darkness had swallowed their silhouettes.


End file.
